


navigation points

by fated_addiction



Category: Korean Drama, 선암여고 탐정단 | Seonam Girls High School Detectives
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>At the end of the day, they are just girls.</i> Chae Yool tries to be a teenager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	navigation points

**Author's Note:**

> I love this drama to bits and pieces. It just keeps getting better and better and unapologetically so. Anyways, all spoilers for all episodes up to now.

-

 

 

 

"Your hands are shaking."

\-- this happens after, much later, with Chae Yool standing outside of Park Se Yoo's room, her back flushed against the wall and her nails digging into the pockets of her jacket. Her palms are sweaty and Sung Yoon, favoring one of her shoulders, is careful to share the wall with her.

"I got milk," the taller girl says, sweeping her hair back with a hand. Neither of them are looking into the room; the door is still open. "One of the nurses said that sugar will help. It's strawberry."

Chae Yool nods. "It counters the shock."

"I see."

They are alone. There are nurses hovering at the end of the hall, by the desk where their teacher was waiting for news. She's sure they're saying _oh that poor girl_ and _of course the parents are overseas_ because that's what you say in situations like this.

"Should we tell the others," she murmurs and then stops herself, "no -- not yet..." She looks up at Sung Yoon, lips pursed tightly. "This isn't right, you know."

Sung Yoon is just as serious. On a separate note, Chae Yool doesn't know how she feels about her. This is the first time in this situation where she finds herself next to someone who actually agrees with her, who doesn't write herself into the same response but shares it alone. But Sung Yoon maintains that face, shaking her head.

"We shouldn't --" she struggles, sipping at the milk again, "We shouldn't go on," she continues. "Then we'll be too deep. We're already too deep --"

"Right."

The facts are these:

Chae Yool does not have to walk into the hospital room to you that there is too much blood because there _is_ too much blood and when the nurses and doctors, who were too late to the door, rushed the bed out, she could see Se Yoo-sunbae and the blood sinking into the pillows and the sheets. She can tell you that there was probably glass in the bed too and that there is more, maybe even a puddle of it, on the floor; she doesn't know if it is part of a window or a drinking glass. She thinks she would react too, just as quickly, just as fast, and grab the first thing to reach. She can tell you that her voice is hurt, that Sung Yoon will have a bruise the next day because she threw her shoulder into the door and their teacher had to grab her because she would have done it until something in the door snapped.

"You should have some," Sung Yoon says, thrusting the milk into Chae Yool's hand, lingering to make sure that she is going to drink it too. Humor me, she doesn't say. "It's pretty sweet, you know."

Chae Yool takes the carton. Her fingers curl around the straw and she wonders if Se Yoo was waiting for that moment, the one moment where everything is supposed to come together and make sense even with the decisions made. It unnerves her. She feels too close to that feeling too.

"Yah," Sung Yoon is gentle. She nudges her hip. "Drink."

She blinks and stops thinking.

"Yeah, sure," she says.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

It grates at her, you know, the idea that something had happen and this was a person that asked for help from _them_ , that they went into this blindly, and that the five of them prove every sort of inane assumption that people have about teenagers. At the end of the day, they are just girls.

Mi Do is waiting for her after class. They live towards the same bus line; Mi Do will get off for work and home and Chae Yool will continue aimlessly towards home and her mother, waiting for another fight. They leave school together and leave quietly. There are murmurs about Se Yoo. Chae Yool sneaks a glance at the other girl's gaze. It remains unreadable, just as it had in the costume room.

"You okay?" she asks finally.

Mi Do is startled. She tries to huff but sighs anyway. She shakes her head. "I don't understand it," she says.

"What?"

"They abandoned each other." Mi Do cranes her neck back, rubbing her chin. Yee Hee had recounted the story earlier; the ashes, the fight, and it was as serious as Yee Hee wanted to be. Chae Yool studies Mi Do's hands though. Her fingers dangle and curl, her skin red. She's washed her hands twice already. "I mean --" Mi Do sighs, shaking her head, "I can't say that I don't know what I kind of choice I would have made. It just makes you think too much about it, you know?"

Chae Yool scoffs. "That's one way of saying it."

She shrugs.

"I also don't understand how people don't expect the consequences. Like it's cause and effect. You make a choice, there's always going to be stuff that, like, happens as a result of it."

"You should listen to yourself," Chae Yool drawls, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. "It's appropriate for a lot of things," she says too and can't help it, really, because her brother _has_ to come up and she's really just surprised that it hasn't blown up yet. 

"I don't want to speculate," Mi Do says.

"So _don't_ ," she snaps, and Mi Do ducks, embarrassed. Chae Yool does not soften either. "Someone in this has to dig their heels. Someone has to say we found the doll, we understand the situation, and now, now, let's back away because we don't need this." It goes unspoken, but Chae Yool says it anyway. "Se Yoo-sunbae doesn't need it. She deserves better."

Mi Do says nothing more. There isn't anything else to be said as it is. The bus arrives and they file in, only to sit next to each other in the front.

It's a full bus too, between students and midday workers, other people moving quickly to get to their afternoon and evening job. Chae Yool tries and focuses on calming herself down. She feels like she still smells like the hospital. You know -- that sweet, pungent smell that sticks to your skin for days, almost a self-imposed reminder. She wishes she were the type that could say something kind, something kinder even, something that would cover itself in a lie that would make Mi Do feel justified. It's a reminder that they're not friends, or nowhere near friends, not enough for Chae Yool to lie and feel guilt over.

Instead, she keeps quiet and watches the city brush by. The bus slows at the first stop, then it's the second, and the third, the one Mi Do gets off of. The restaurant is a bright imposition and she watches a couple walk inside, distracted when Mi Do stands sharply. In the corner of her eyes, she thinks she may see Yee Hee and her bright hair and bow, bobbing up and down, waiting for Mi Do at the door. It means her brother is close by; Chae Yool sighs and tries not to say anything. You are not getting involved, she tells herself and loses count of the phrase for the day.

There are people moving out, in front of Mi Do though, and she looks to Chae Yool, her glasses slipping off her nose. Someone hits her shoulder a little too hard. Mi Do is startled and she pauses, gripping the bus seat. Her knuckles are pale. Her voice is almost too quiet, quiet enough that Chae Yool has to lean forward and touch her hip to make sure she's steady enough to hear.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Her mouth opens and closes. "You know --" she starts but doesn't finish.

Chae Yool's reply is sharp, baiting. Her gaze lingers on her wrists as the cuffs of her jacket slip back.

"Yes," she says.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

There is a list. Of course, there is a list.

Chae Yool picks the location this time. The studio is his safety, but she'd rather not meet Ha Ra Ohn at school because suddenly, weirdly enough, school has become more personal than she needs it to be. The girls are there too and that's a separate anxiety. So it's a coffee shop near the gallery; she picks it to be ironic because he shot himself and it was blown into something _stupid_ , complete with more cryptic comments from his uncle and even more from Ra Ohn because, well, he is just as bad as her teacher.

She orders a tea and scribbles away, ignoring her own promises to keep out of Se Yoo's life and her problems. But she can't stop thinking about the other girl, or the fact that she's in the hospital, wrists wrapped and probably wishing too hard for some kind of death, any kind of death, because if they are that similar, failure is crueler than anything else. That goes on the list, and what follows are names and locations, the boyfriend and his mother, the idea that everyone lies and lies especially hard about themselves.

"Have you come to your senses," Ra Ohn asks, upon arriving, finally shuffling into a seat in front of her. His jacket looks heavy. There are dark circles under his eyes and a camera between his hands.

"I thought you retired," she throws back, pulling the piece of paper from the table. She folds it in half. "Are you selling that then?"

"You're crazy," he mutters.

She doesn't press.

He doesn't order coffee. She has a cookie, but not a drink. She felt like something sweet when she arrived. Her mouth has already started to dry.

They sit in silence for a moment. He looks to a window, she studies his camera; his fingers flick and play with the lens cap. He's tempted, she thinks. Her mouth feels sharp.

"So what is it then," he says. He studies the piece of paper, but doesn't reach for it. She thinks _he's handsome_ , but doesn't hate herself for it. His fingers are stained. Ink, maybe. Paint, probably. His exhibit seems like months ago. His leg brushes against hers. "You don't seem to be the kind of girl that just _calls_ ," and she thinks he says this to tease her. Well, she tells herself, if he was that guy.

She doesn't answer, not right away, choosing to meet his gaze and hold it. That's the challenge. Especially since he decided to inject himself into her life and not the reverse.

"I have a question," she tells him finally.

"Okay."

Chae Yool shrugs. "I'm thinking about asking you," she says. "And whether or not that's a good idea -- you seem like the guy that would take it the wrong way for the hell of it." She pushes, further. "Since, you know, you shot yourself and all."

"You're cute," he says after a beat, and she flashes a victory sign at him.

She can't read his face. It's not important. She keeps straight to the facts again. He simply looks tired, maybe a little angrier than usual, and the rest, she just can't ignore the way there's a feeling, that feeling, that unsettles her.

Her hand brushes against her stomach. She forces a sigh.

"There's this girl at school."

He snorts. "You called me for this?"

Chae Yool holds a hand up. "Humor me," she says and Ra Ohn shrugs. "It's been a couple of days."

"What did my uncle do?"

She frowns, shaking her head. She flushes and tries not to mutter.

"This isn't about _you_." 

"You're one to talk," he mutters, slouching in his seat. They have yet to buy coffee. She's sure the barista at the counter is giving them some kind of _look_.

But then the words sort of stumble out. 

"A girl at my school tried to kill herself." 

He pauses, pushing his hand onto the table. His expression changes. His eyes go dark, his mouth slight, and she watches his mouth move and she thinks no, no, _no_ don't make it about your uncle. He doesn't look panicked. He doesn't look uncomfortable, which is what she almost expects. It's a strange thing, waiting for his reaction, for some kind of reaction, but nothing seems to come just yet.

Their knees touch. He leans forward, voice low: "I --" his mouth closes, "I can't ask."

Well, she thinks, at least he's honest.

Her face feels hot. Her heart starts to pound.

"She was pregnant," she murmurs, looking away. She can't find herself ready to stop. "She had an abortion," she says too. "And it's awful -- the girls, they kept saying, or, well, Mi Do said that she and I..." She trails off because there is nothing else to say.

She looks down.

"I don't want to make this about me," she confesses. "But I can't stop thinking about what I would do and how I would react and why she hasn't reached out to anybody."

His voice softens. "Don't she think she has?"

"No," she answers and it's a second confession. She hears Mi Do's words in her head: you're similar. "Because," she tells him, "that's not what I would do."

It takes a moment, a _real_ moment, to think about what she's just said out loud. It makes this painful and sensible and terrifying to come face to face with. She thinks _we are only supposed to be girls_ but knows how much she hates the expression and how much they all hate it.

And then his hand is right there.

It startles her, his fingers pushing over knuckles, then into her palm and she thinks she hates the ink stains -- that's what they _have_ to be -- but it's appropriate, he feels like he's supposed to be here and she can't go and question that. She focuses on his face then, and can't go beyond that; it's his mouth and it opens, sharp and wistful and she thinks he's getting ready to say something. He is almost looking at her like she's someone else.

"I think --"

She shakes her head. "Please," she says and swallows. Dignity, she thinks.

He nods slowly and it's as if they reach the same, exact moment of conclusions. She'll remember him this way: his face open and honest, maybe even just as terrified, and think _he's just a couple years older than me_ which makes him just as much of a kid as she is. She thinks the world is against them and then she remembers Se Yoo in her hospital room, the glass and the bloody sheets. She thinks _you see_ and then not long after, _I was right_ because she's a girl and a teenage girl at that, and wisdom tattoos itself a little too early these days.

"We should order coffee," he says, then forces a scowl. His forehead wrinkles and it makes for a handsome character. He's awkward; it's the subject change. "You know, if you want," he flushes too.

She manages a shrug. "Whatever." She clears her throat. "You can, uh, tell me about retirement," she says and he laugh is lazy and slow.

It's startling, but neither of them realize it. This is how they create a safe space.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Her mother makes breakfast the morning she agrees to go and see Se Yoo with Sung Yoon again.

There is rice, eggs, and pieces of mango -- "Don't you like mango? It's brilliant for your brain," her mother asks and insults in one breath and she goes an answers with a scowl, "no, that's _oppa_."

She doesn't sit, but dutifully ties her hair nearby because she's a good daughter and that's a bad habit to break. Her mother's gaze is heavy; her father's left, her brother is continuing to dig his grave, and she'd rather not get into any of this. She feels the sleep in the corner of her eyes too and yawns, turning to reach for the jacket she left on top of the chair at the table.

"They sent an email, your school," her mother starts. Her voice turns into nails, syrupy at best. "Should I be concerned?"

Chae Yool pauses, but only by the door and ready to go. She never tries to lie.

"Yes," she says.

At the bus stop, Sung Yoon shares her strawberry milk.


End file.
